


wait for me to come home (you won't ever be alone)

by xxpaynoxx



Series: Bellarke Song!fics [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: And it sucks, F/M, M/M, abby doesn't like bellamy (shocker), bellamy is a sap, clarke gets taken away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:11:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin were the high school sweethearts of Ark. They did everything together, and they'd become attached at the hip. Octavia, Bellamy’s younger sister, even had money on them getting married one day (which Bellamy had smacked her for). </p><p>But the morning after their two-year anniversary, Clarke disappears. She leaves no trace that she was ever there, except for a photograph of them with the words “Wait for me to come home” written on the back. Bellamy doesn’t know how to feel, but he keeps his promise, knowing that Clarke would come back. </p><p>But Bellamy’s got questions that need answers. Why did Clarke leave? Where did she go? Why will her mother not answer the door or return his calls? Why is Clarke’s phone number keep saying that the holder doesn’t exist? And if Clarke does come back, will Bellamy be there for her?</p><p>[Based on the song ‘Photograph’ by Ed Sheeran.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this will be a multi-chapter work. I've got big plans for this fic, and I'm very excited for it. I hope you like it!

_Bellamy groaned, falling on top of Clarke and whispering her name into her shoulder as both of them came at the same time. Bellamy pressed a messy kiss to Clarke’s collarbone, and rolled over next to her as they stared into each other’s eyes, panting as they came down from their highs. Clarke took Bellamy’s hand in her own, squeezing it and breaking out into a smile. “Wow,” she whispered, and Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh. “That your first time, princess?” he asked, and Clarke’s face went even more red as she nodded, biting her lip and avoiding his gaze. Bellamy nudged her, and her eyes came up to meet his again._

_“Did I make it unforgettable?”_

_Clarke nodded, that stupid grin still plastered on her face, which dimmed into a small smile as Bellamy reached out and stroked her soft cheek with his finger. Clarke’s mermaid-style peach prom dress was folded neatly on the back of his desk chair, the moonlight glancing off of the sequins and lighting up her face and hair and making her look nothing short of an angel with a golden halo._

_The two basked in the silence for a few minutes, and then Bellamy rolled over to retrieve his boxers. “You should probably get dressed,” he said, and Clarke blinked, confused. “Why?” she asked, searching for her bra on the floor as Bellamy tugged on his boxers. “Because. Didn’t your mom say that you couldn’t stay over at my house after prom?” he asked, looking over as Clarke clipped her bra back on, a little sad that he didn’t have a marvelous view anymore. Clarke sighed as she pulled her underwear on, stretching across the bed like a cat and resting her chin in the crook of his neck._

_“Fuck what my mom says,” she whispered into his skin, and Bellamy grinned, leaning backward and flipping over, trapping Clarke in between his arms. “Now that’s more like it, Princess,” he mumbled, kissing her silly and groaning as her fingers snaked into his hair, pulling softly on his curls. “Another round?” he whispered against her lips, and she giggled. Bellamy took that as a yes, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down her jawline and sucking on her collarbone again, getting a low whine out of Clarke._

_Bellamy smirked against her skin, and yeah, maybe another round wasn’t so bad._

**…**

Bellamy blinked open his eyes, the sun streaming through his window and temporarily blinding him. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up and looking around the room. Suddenly, he realized Clarke wasn’t in bed with him anymore. The space was still warm, which meant that she hadn’t been gone long. Bellamy suspected that she was downstairs, talking to Octavia or something, but when he rose up and stretched, he didn’t hear anything.

He threw on a shirt and walked downstairs, and saw Octavia nursing a tea. She looked terrible, with giant bags under her eyes and her jaw set in anger. She looked up at Bellamy as he came down the stairs. “Where’s Clarke?” he asked, yawning and rubbing the back of his head as he walked over to the coffee machine. Octavia didn’t answer, taking a sip of her tea. Bellamy noticed that she was shaking.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, coming over and sitting down next to his sister, resting his hand on her back. Octavia burst into tears and pushed her face into his shoulder, and Bellamy encircled his arms around her, pulling her close and feeling his heart sink. Octavia didn’t just sporadically cry; that wasn’t in her nature. Something had to be very wrong.

“Where is Clarke?” he pressed again, and Octavia lifted her eyes to look at her brother, biting her lip. “Her mom took her away,” she whispered, her voice shaky. Bellamy shook his head, standing up. “What do you mean?” he asked, dread beginning to seep into his chest. It got harder to breathe as Octavia explained what happened.

“Clarke woke up before you, and I let her b-borrow a shirt and pants. She came downstairs and was talking to me when her mother burst in, grabbing her and yelling at her that she didn’t l-listen and that she was “never coming back” and all this metaphorical shit about her not being allowed to see you and that you’re a bad influence on her, so I punched her.”

Bellamy blinked in shock. “You punched _Abby Griffin_?” he hissed, and Octavia nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. “Hell yes I did,” she said, looking down at the bruises on her knuckles and flexing her fingers, wincing at the pain. “She totally deserved it. She was shit-talking you and I couldn’t take it anymore. Clarke was in tears, and was hysterical as her mother forced her into a car parked outside. It didn’t have Minnesota license plates, and I couldn’t tell the state. It was jet black, and had tinted windows, but from what I could tell, it was packed. There was a lot of stuff in there.”

“The last I saw of her was the tail-end of that car screaming down the road.”

Bellamy couldn’t comprehend what just happened. “Did she say where she was going?” he asked. Octavia shook her head, and pulled something out of the back pocket of her jeans. “Wherever she was being taken by Abby, she didn’t want to go. She told me to give this to you,” she said, taking her now-empty mug to the counter, handing Bellamy a folded piece of paper.

Bellamy opened it up and realized that it wasn’t paper, but an old Polaroid photograph. It was of them, and the picture had a soft glow to it. They were both wearing sunglasses, and Clarke’s tongue was out of her mouth, Miley Cyrus-style, as she faced him. He had a smirk on his face, and Bellamy assumed that they were both completely smashed. He had his arm around Clarke, and a short glass in his hand halfway filled with a brown liquid that looked a lot like whiskey.

Bellamy flipped the photo over, and bit his lip to try and not cry. Clarke had written in thick Sharpie on the back of the photo, in careful, capital letters, signing her name at the bottom.

_Wait for me to come home._  
_-Clarke_

And that’s when Bellamy lost it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Bellamy confronts Abby, Octavia threatens to chop someone's head off, and Clarke is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter. It's got Octavia getting pissed at Abby; what more would you want?

Two Years Later

Bellamy hadn’t gotten on very well after Clarke left.

He was a mess for a good week, and then a month, and then two months after that. After the fourth month, Octavia threw a fit and all but forced him to take a walk around the town. She made him go buy groceries, since _I don’t have any time to go buy food for us, Bell, and we’ve run out of your shitty supply of Cup O’ Noodles_ and Bellamy didn’t want to get murdered with the spoon Octavia was threatening him with, so he went.

Eventually, a year passed, and then another, and as realization began to spread that Clarke Griffin had all but disappeared and she wasn’t “on vacation”, all eyes were on Bellamy. There were outlandish rumors from kidnapping (which Octavia struck down almost immediately) to falling into a pit of quicksand (which Bellamy found ridiculous; they were in _Minnesota_ , not the fucking Amazon rain forest).

Bellamy tried Clarke’s cell every day, and came up with a void voicemail. He always called, and texted, because maybe Clarke would pick up, and he’d hear her chirpy voice on the other side of the phone and his heart would start to race and finally he’d get some answers. But no, that scenario just wasn’t meant to be.

Bellamy’s friend Miller had tried to get him to move on by getting him drunk, but he either ended up crying hysterically by the end of the night or passing out. And whenever he tried to get a girl in bed, he’d moan Clarke’s name instead of the girl’s, and that didn’t go down well with the girls. They’d throw his clothes in his face and stomp out, slamming the door and ranting about how “disappointing” Bellamy Blake was in bed.

He never even thought to talk to Abby, since he didn’t mesh very well with her. Abby was the kind of rich woman who golfed every morning on Wednesdays and had a butler and drove a shiny Mercedes Benz everywhere. Bellamy remembers seeing her car and immediately becoming jealous, and then he smacked himself because he knew Clarke was _nothing_ like her mother.

Clarke worked her ass off for everything she had. Even Bellamy knew that, because there was no way in hell somebody just gets handed the title of valedictorian of their high school class. Bellamy knew that Clarke had all but shattered her relationship with her mother when she brought Bellamy home, and Abby was immediately defensive of Clarke. Bellamy had “the talk” with her mother, and found out about Jake Griffin, Clarke’s father, who Abby divorced in Clarke’s sophomore year.

Bellamy remembered that, because Clarke was crying after school (and he couldn’t believe that Clarke Griffin was capable of tears) and he was forced to console her, even though at that time, he was the _worst_ person to try and make her feel better.

So he kissed her.

He felt terrible after the fact, but Clarke kissed back, and before he knew it, he had his hands up her shirt with her back pressed firmly against the stone wall of the school. He had whispered his first “I love you” into her ear and she’d said it back, breathlessly, looking into his eyes and whispering “don’t you dare fuck me against the wall of this school, Bellamy Blake”, which had him laughing across the soft skin of her neck.

One morning, Bellamy plucked up the courage to go ask Abby what the hell was going on. Octavia had chastised him the other night, telling him to _figure out what the fuck is going on before I take a meat cleaver to that bitch’s head_ and Bellamy hadn’t wanted to start a town-wide feud over the death of Clarke’s mother. So, here he was, fist poised over Abby Griffin’s white door at ten in the morning on a Sunday.

A _Sunday_.

Bellamy sent three swift knocks ringing through the house, and after a few moments, the door opened to reveal a short, pudgy older woman dressed in pure white. Her gray eyes were cold, and she was tying a matching white apron around her waist as she stared at Bellamy. “Can I ask who _you_ are?” she rasped in a thick Scottish accent after a few moments of awkward silence, and Bellamy gulped, praying that she wasn’t going to brutally murder him on the doorstep like something out of American Horror Story. “I’m, uh, Clarke’s boyfriend, Bellamy,” he stammered, and the woman’s eyes softened. “Hm, ah see. Ah’ll go get Abby, but lemme tell ya, don’t expect to get a good answer. She’s been rantin’ about ya influence on Clarke foh _ages_ now,” she explained, rolling her eyes.

Bellamy walked in after the chubby woman, and saw Abby Griffin standing at the island in the kitchen, still dressed in her church clothes (which consisted of a knee-length black lace dress and matching heels). Her hair was curled and tucked into a perfect bun, and Bellamy suddenly felt underdressed in his ripped black skinny jeans and tattered long-sleeve black shirt.

Abby had a mug in between her manicured fingers, and as Bellamy’s combat boots hit the tile floor of the kitchen, she looked up from where she’d been staring off. Her eyes immediately went narrow and cold, and she set the mug down on the counter. “ _Bell_ amy,” she said, putting an emphasis on the first syllable of her name as she outstretched her hand. Bellamy shook it, and retracted his hands into his pockets, suddenly not knowing what to do with them. He could feel Abby’s stare burning into his skin, and as he opened his mouth, she interrupted him.

“I can’t tell you where Clarke is.”

Bellamy stared at her, his mouth still hanging open. His eyes went as wide as saucers, and then narrowed to slits. “And why would that be, Ms. Griffin?” he asked, his voice dripping with poison. Abby didn’t let up, their gazes burning together as they stared each other down. “Because I don’t want a bad influence like you to hurt her,” she hissed, and that’s when Bellamy lost it.

“Bad influence? _Bad influence_? I was the best damn thing that happened to Clarke after you left Jake! She was actually happier with me than she was with _you_!” he yelled, jabbing his finger in Abby’s disgusted face, his voice echoing off the walls of the open kitchen.

“How would you know about that?” she said in a dangerously low voice, and Bellamy growled.

“Maybe because I paid attention to her, instead of pushing her aside when she was fucked up after he moved out! Maybe I acted like I fucking cared about my girlfriend more than anything! Maybe, just maybe, I actually helped her instead of brushing her off! She was _sixteen_ , Abby! People's parents aren't ever supposed to divorce!” he snarled.

Tears began to sting Bellamy’s eyes as he looked at Abby. “How could you take away the one person I cared about the most?” he said, shocked at how shaky his voice was. Abby looked up at Bellamy, and the glare set back into her eyes after a look that was close to hurt flashed across her face. When she told him to get out, he did.

He ran all the way back home, wrenching open the door and ignoring Octavia’s startled yelp. He sprinted up his room, making sure Octavia didn’t catch him crying, and slammed the door, breathing heavily as he wiped his hand across his face. His chest moved up and down rapidly as he caught his breath as he ran his hands through his hair, sliding down the door until his rear made contact with the floor, and then leaned the back of his head again the door.

Tears ran down his cheeks then, hot and fast, and he bit back a sob as he looked out his window. Rain began to hit the glass, and a distant rumble of thunder made him shudder. He didn’t even catch what he was aiming for: where Clarke had gone.

So he let it slide, along with his tears, and decided that Clarke wasn’t coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave your comments down below!! also, follow me on [tumblr](http://plantmorley.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Part 3 will be up soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bellamy gets awoken at 2am, and Octavia panicks. Oh, and Clarke is still missing.

Three Years Later

Bellamy woke up in the middle of the night with a very painful jab in his side.

He yelped, jumping up, and as the cold air hit his bare torso, he snatched the duvet off the bed and wrapped it around him as he looked frantically around the bed and his room as to what caused it. Seeing nothing, he rubbed his face, looking over at the clock, which read _2:34. Fuck_ , he thought, throwing on a long-sleeve shirt and trooping into the bathroom.

He stood in front of the sink, brushing his curls out of his face as he looked at himself. Over the past year, the dark circles around his eyes had become more pronounced, which was considerably odd since he wasn’t going out and drinking anymore. Also, Octavia had moved downtown earlier in the year into her boyfriend’s apartment (which Bellamy wasn’t too excited about, but he had to let it go). Maybe it was his job; he had late night shifts at the bar, which weren’t helping his sleeping habits very much, since he always downed at least a beer whenever he wasn’t working.

Suddenly, the surface of the mirror rippled.

Bellamy blinked, and the mirror rippled again, this time flashing a face that _definitely_ wasn’t Bellamy’s. The third time, it revealed the full reflection, and Bellamy recoiled with another pathetic yelp, slamming his back up against the door and swearing.

But instead of some scary monster, he found himself staring into the washed-out blue eyes of Clarke Griffin.

Bellamy's heart felt like it dropped right out of his ass.

He pinched himself, thinking it was a dream, but nothing changed. Clarke’s face was still there. He pinched himself again. Still nothing.

Confident that he wasn’t hallucinating, Bellamy moved forward until he was standing right in front of the mirror, and studied Clarke closely. There was a deep cut along the side of her face, and a bandage was peeking out of the neckline of her pajama top. She’d been crying, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, and the tear tracks cut through the thin layer of dirt covering her face. She was shaking as she looked down at the sink, and Bellamy saw thin white lines in masses across the insides of her forearms.

She took off a pretty silver ring from her ring finger and threw it in the toilet (at least, Bellamy assumed that, since she looked away from the mirror to throw the ring) and flushed it, before reappearing in front of the mirror. Her eyes were hardened, the bright blue they were before now a stormy gray. She bit her lip as she looked back down at her hands.

“ _Clarke_ …” Bellamy whispered, his voice cracking halfway through as he reached out to brush Clarke’s cheek with his knuckles, but hit the mirror and Clarke’s reflection faded as she looked up again, her jaw set with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

Bellamy looked down at the sink, clutching the sides of it with white knuckles. He splashed some water in his face, and went back to bed, but he couldn’t get comfortable. “Come on, Bellamy, it’s been _three years_ ,” he muttered to himself, dragging his hands across his face again. There was no way Clarke was coming back, and what if this was all a dream? Some freakish nightmare he was having?

He rolled over and pushed his face into the pillow, breathing in the cologne he wore to work as he tried to calm himself down. He groaned as an aggressively noisy marimba ringtone echoed through the room, and Bellamy reached out for his phone.

He snatched it from the desk and swiped right to pick up, ruffling his hair as he held his phone to his ear. “Hello?” he rasped, and he heard the heavy panting of Octavia. He heard her say something intelligible away from the phone, and he heard Lincoln say something back to her before she came back on.

“ _Bellamy! Are you awake?_ ” she yelled, and Bellamy had to bring the phone away from his ear as he squeezed his eyes shut at Octavia’s voice volume. “Jesus, O, it’s like, two in the morning,” he grumbled. But his annoyance didn’t get picked up by Octavia, who sounded panicked. “ _I was gonna wait until this morning, when you were awake, but I feel like I had to tell you now,_ ” Octavia explained, and Bellamy sat up again for the second time that night. “O, what’s wrong?” he asked cautiously, but Octavia steamrolled over his worried question, her voice growing shaky.

“ _I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see her again, and she looks so hurt and beat up and I swear to God if I find out who hurt her I will slice off their arms and stuff them up their-_ ”

“Wait. She?” Bellamy asked. It was silent on the other end of the phone for a couple minutes, and then Octavia spoke.

“ _Yes,_ she _. It’s Clarke. I saw her. She’s coming back home._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fourth chapter should be up soon :-))) in the meantime, follow me on [tumblr](http://plantmorley.tumblr.com)!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which bellamy and octavia have an unexpected visitor, miller is a cool wingman, and raven is a damn good bartender.

Bellamy sees her on a Tuesday in the winter.

He’s carried the folded photograph of them that he’d found on the dresser that day for four years now, and hasn’t given up hope. Octavia has, and that’s why she moved out. Lincoln has, and that’s why he and Octavia uprooted and moved out of state. Miller almost has, and he’s tried everything to make Bellamy forget about her.

Bellamy usually tells him to fuck off, and Miller drops it.

He’s walking home from the bar, hands shoved deep into his skinny jeans that are doing little to keep out the cold of the November night, when he sees a flash of golden hair by the lamppost. He squints harder, stopping in his tracks, and sees a silhouetted form, leaning against the post, breath turning to fog in front of their face before drifting off into the cold night.

Bellamy fumbles for his pocket, and pulls out the photograph, unfolding it carefully. White lines run across the photo from being unfolded and refolded over and over, and Bellamy holds it gingerly so that it doesn’t fall apart. He looks from the girl next to him in the picture, and looks up.

The person is gone.

Bellamy blinks, and then rubs his eyes. The figure doesn’t show itself again, and Bellamy blames it on the beer he drank at the bar. _I knew there was something in that drink,_ he thought to himself as he shoves the photo back into his pocket and keeps walking, trudging through the snow.

**xxx**

Octavia sees her two weeks later.

Bellamy knows this, because he’s in the shower when she calls, and when he gets out, he’s got over five missed calls from Octavia, which is very abnormal. He calls her back, expecting to hear that she set the kitchen on fire, or that Lincoln left her at some random person’s house at a party the night before and she needed a ride, but those scenarios couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Octavia mentioned that she’d seen Clarke, in a small voice.

“ _Bellamy, she looks_ awful,” she explains, as Bellamy stirs sugar into his morning coffee. “I wouldn't know, since  _I_ haven’t found her yet,” he whispers, and he can hear Octavia snort in irritation on the other end.

“ _She must be at her mom’s house. Have you tried?_ ”

Bellamy grimaces, remembering Abby’s angry voice when he had pleaded to see Clarke. He'd visited again after that Sunday, and she had retorted with a _I don’t know who you’re referring to_ and they’d gotten into another shouting match. And frankly, that was that for Bellamy. “Yes, O, I’ve tried. Multiple times,” he said softly, taking a sip of his coffee as he listened to Octavia rant about Abby being a total bitch.

Bellamy silently agreed with her.

“It’s Clarke. She’ll come out when she’s ready,” Bellamy said simply, and he could practically feel Octavia rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone, and she lets out another huff of irritation.

“ _Whatever. You’ve fought for this girl for years, and you’re just gonna wait for her?_ ”

“Yes.”

Octavia sighs. “ _Alright. You know her better than me, I guess,_ ” she finally says, giving in and ending the call.

Bellamy places his phone in the waistband of his boxers, sipping his coffee and watching the big snowflakes drift down from the sky. Clarke will come back when she’s ready, because that’s Clarke. She needs time to process, and according to Octavia, get over looking awful.

Bellamy leaves his empty coffee mug in the sink, flopping onto the couch. _At least, I hope she does_ , he thinks to himself as he flicks on the TV.

**xxx**

Bellamy sees her in a bar a month later.

Octavia has pestered him to go, since he hasn’t been in a long time and she slid in that Miller missed him. He begrudgingly ends up going because he knows that Raven will be serving drinks tonight, and she makes the best scotch in town. Plus, it’s Christmas Eve, and Bellamy, in his twisted mind, feels like a bar is a good place to go.

Bellamy met Raven when they were in high school, and Raven threw a wrench across the room at Bellamy’s teammate in engineering, Kyle Wick, and it had ended up slamming into the side of Bellamy’s head. He’d had to get eight stitches in his cheek, and they still joke about it.

Raven was closer with Clarke, and she’d even vowed to be roommates with her when the two went off to university together. Obviously, Clarke disappeared, and Raven had returned every summer, in hopes of seeing her best friend again.

She was let down every time, and Bellamy got the feeling that Raven knew she wasn’t coming back.

Raven and he had slept together almost three years ago, after Raven took pity on him at the bar. She’d just broken up with her abusive boyfriend that Bellamy still can’t remember the name of ( _Felix? Fabian?_ ) and had thrown all fucks out of the window that night. Afterwards, she’d asked him if he’d felt any better.

He said no, and she agreed.

They didn’t bring it up and nobody noticed that they’d done it, but it brought Bellamy closer to Raven. She was the only one who _really_ knew Clarke besides himself, and she reminded him of her in a way. Bellamy made a point to only go to the bar when Raven was serving, and tonight was no different.

However, when Bellamy arrives, Raven seems giddy. When he asks what was with the change in mood, she brushes it off, blaming it on Wick (who’d ended up asking her out after Bellamy gave him the go-ahead and all but shoved him at her). Bellamy suspects that he isn’t getting the whole story, and when she serves him his scotch, it’s a little sweeter than normal.

Bellamy moves to sit with Miller at their usual booth, and they sit in silence, Miller taking sips of his beer every now and then and Bellamy swirling his scotch around in the pretty glass. Miller brings up his Christmas plans with Monty, his boyfriend, who sometimes showed up at the bar with a kid in black goggles that was (according to Monty) his fellow roommate in college, Jasper. The kid had developed a reputation for himself by setting his kitchen on fire practically every week, and seemed to respect Bellamy out of fear.

Bellamy liked it, so he let him stay.

Suddenly, Miller nudges him.

Bellamy breaks his intimate gaze with the bottom of his scotch glass to glare at Miller. “What?” he hisses, and Miller jerks his head at the bar. Bellamy follows his gaze and his eyes set on none other than Clarke Griffin.

Even in the shitty bar lighting, Clarke looks awful. Raven is chatting with her idly, but she doesn’t say much, only a few words per question, and Raven is looking increasingly concerned. She places a hand on Clarke’s arm, and she flinches, and Raven’s eyes widen. She pulls her off of the bar and brings her behind the bar to where she is, and wraps her arms around her.

Bellamy’s heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, because that should be _him_ holding Clarke.

And when Raven meets his eyes, a silent plea across the room, Bellamy steels himself to ditch his untouched scotch and strides over to the bar.

He brings Clarke into his arms, and Clarke lets go of Raven’s shirt, latching onto the back of Bellamy’s jacket with an iron grip, her tears soaking into the front of his shirt. Bellamy looks up at Raven, who’s looking at Clarke with a broken expression. _Take her home with you_ , she mouths, and Bellamy nods as he walks out of the bar, Miller nodding at him as he goes with one arm wrapped tightly around Clarke’s shoulders.

**xxx**

Once they are outside underneath the lamp post, Bellamy turns back to Clarke, and realizes she’s crying again. He brings her into his chest, feeling her body shake with sobs as her tears soak through her shirt. She cries for a long time, eventually calming down but not removing the vice-like grip she has on the back of his shirt. Bellamy strokes her hair, pressing his face into it and breathing in her special scent of strawberries.

They sit down on the curb, Bellamy holding Clarke’s hand and brushing his thumb across her skin, and Clarke begins to talk with a raspy and dehydrated voice.

“That day I left you was the hardest day of my life. My mom had told me that she was sending me off to medical school, and I couldn’t tell you about it because she didn’t want you to follow me. She’d even made sure she had husband material there for me when I graduated.”

She takes in a deep breath, and the tears come back and start flowing down her face. Bellamy takes both of her hands in his, and Clarke looks up at him with the most broken gaze Bellamy has ever seen. “You don’t have to keep going,” he whisper, but Clarke shakes her head. “N-No, I _need_ to get this out,” she says, her voice snapping in the middle, and Bellamy falls silent as Clarke continues, her voice getting smaller with each word.

“His name was Finn, and he was _nothing_ like you. He was all happy-go-lucky and exciting and flirtatious, and since my mom said I couldn’t come back and that she’d arranged for us to marry already, I went through with it. My dad objected, but my mom had said that his opinion didn’t matter anymore, since she had custody of me. My dad went silent for a long time, and Finn and I got engaged.”

“Finn started drinking, and would come home and beat me if I didn’t have what he wanted done. I mean, I’m a _doctor_. I have a job, and a very time-consuming job at that. Apparently he didn’t care about that, and would throw anything from beer bottles to knives at me. It was a particularly bad night where I packed up and left, and he’d even tried to stop me. I threw my engagement ring in his face and called him a dick, and escaped to my dad’s. He didn’t follow me, thank God. Apparently, my mom had gotten word that Finn and I were done, and she had me forcefully removed from my dad’s place back to here.”

Bellamy doesn’t realize he’s so tense until Clarke has finished talking. The fact that someone else thought that Clarke Griffin was just another toy in the playground aggravates him to the point where he wants to find this Finn character and beat the absolute shit out of him.

And for some reason, he faintly recognizes the name.

Bellamy draws Clarke back into him, feeling her body shake with sobs again. He brushes her hair, mumblings sweet nothings into her ear as she calms down again, and when she leans away, he pulls out the photograph.

Clarke’s eyes brim with tears again, and the faintest hint of a smile breaks across her lips. “You waited?” she asks, and Bellamy nods, grinning. “I would have waited forever if it meant I could see you again,” he whispers, and Clarke chokes. “You’re such a sap. I’m glad _you_ haven’t changed, at least,” she says, hitting his shoulder lightly. He shudders at Clarke's choice of words and covers up his discomfort with a smirk, standing up with Clarke’s hand entwined in his own.

“You’re not going to take me back to my mom’s, are you?” she asks suddenly, a terrifying fear spreading across her face. Bellamy’s heart sinks at the mention of Abby, and he shakes his head. “No, you’re gonna come back to my place. It’s a nice two-room apartment down on Sixth Street,” he explains, the two walking side by side up to the street sign.

Clarke turns to Bellamy, biting her lip. “I didn’t think you’d ever love me again after what I did to you, leaving like that,” she whispers, looking down at their entwined hands. Bellamy places a finger underneath her chin, lifting her face until their eyes met. “I’ll love you forever, Clarke Griffin, and don’t you dare _ever_ think that that’s going to change,” he says firmly. The two stare into each other’s eyes, and suddenly, Clarke surges upward, capturing Bellamy’s lips with her own.

Bellamy lets out a small groan, his hands immediately cupping her face as they kiss, Clarke’s lips moving against his, agonizingly slow. They break away and Bellamy brushes a stray curl out of Clarke’s eyes, not removing his hands from her cheeks. “We’re gonna get through this, Princess, and I guarantee that you’ll be okay,” Bellamy ads.

Clarke, after a few moments, nods, and Bellamy lets his gaze and hands drop to her shoulders. “Do you wanna go home?” he asked quietly, and Clarke nods silently, her gaze averted from his. Bellamy tucks her into him with his arm around her shoulders, and they keep walking home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU CRYING YET??????
> 
> This took far too long for me to write and i am so sorry. these updates are so sporadic woops :'-///
> 
> ANYWAY. The next chapter is still in the works, and I should be putting it up soon. There's an awesome moment in it that I think you all will like ;)
> 
> Who could Raven's ex-boyfriend be?? And why does Clarke's ex-fiancé's name sound familiar?? ~~i think we all know but shhh~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bellamy comforts Clarke, Clarke reveals a secret, and Jasper is a jackass. Oh, and the end.

As soon as they get home, Bellamy goes to get the first aid kit.

As he’s dabbing disinfectant on Clarke’s cuts as she instructs him on what to do, he remarks that this is a weird role reversal. Clarke gives him a small smile, and the old Clarke appears for just a moment, before her shoulders slump and her face falls into a blank expression. 

It hurts Bellamy in a place he didn’t know he had.

He sends Clarke off to shower, and he scrounges through Octavia’s old clothes for something Clarke can wear that is reasonably covering and warm. He comes up with a pair of Octavia’s leggings and a matching tank top, and places them on top of the toilet seat in the bathroom, along with towels. Clarke silently thanks him by squeezing his hand and sending him a very miniscule smile, and shuts the door behind her.

Bellamy calls Raven up, as he rests on the arm of the sofa in the living room, and she answers on the first ring.

_“What’s up, Blake? Is Clarke okay?”_

Bellamy smiles to himself, touched that the first thing Raven had thought of when he called was Clarke. “Well, she’s been better obviously,” he says, playing with a loose thread in the couch’s stitching. Raven scoffs on the other end, and Bellamy can practically see her rolling her eyes like Octavia.

_“Do you know who did that to her? I swear to God, I will beat the fucking shit out of them. Nobody messes with my best friend like that. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her walk in. I thought she’d gotten hit by a car or something and I got really light-headed and I think she could tell that I was freaked out, but she didn’t tell me a name. She just cried, and God, Bellamy, I’ve never seen Clarke cry like that in my entire time of knowing her and-”_

Bellamy cuts her off with a cough. “She...did tell me a name,” he says quickly in a hushed voice, hearing the shower turn off upstairs. Hearing silence on the other end, he takes a deep breath.

“Finn Collins.”

He hears Raven scream with at least twenty different swear words at the guy, and Bellamy confirms his suspicions of the guy being Raven’s abusive ex-boyfriend. But what she says next really makes Bellamy choke on air.

_“I’m going to his house. Tomorrow. And beating the absolute shit out of him.”_

Before Bellamy can say anything, Raven cuts off, and Bellamy is left with the annoying hang-up tone ringing in his ear.

He puts the phone down with a sigh, and looks over at the stairs. Clarke is standing at the top, her hair put up in a messy bun. The leggings and tank top look like they fit alright, and Bellamy smiles weakly as Clarke descends the stairs slowly.

“You okay?” he asks, and is cut off by Clarke taking two steps before wrapping her arms around Bellamy’s middle, pressing her entire body against his. He realizes she’s shuddering, and he can hear faint sobs coming from her mouth, so he wraps his arms tightly around her, hoping that maybe if he hugs her tight enough, all her broken pieces will stick back together.

They don’t, but at least Clarke relaxes in his grip.

They stand there for a while, and Clarke stops sobbing.

“I was so _stupid_.”

Bellamy jerks away immediately, kneeling down in front of her and placing his hands on her cheeks, wiping away her remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs. “No, you are _not_ stupid,” he says firmly, but Clarke shakes her head.

“Bell, I _was_. I was so _stupid_ for thinking my mom wouldn’t take me away and I was _stupid_ to not leave when Finn threw that first punch at me and I was so _stupid_ for forgetting about you.”

Bellamy tilted his head to the side, his eyes softening as he stares at Clarke. “None of that makes you stupid, Clarke. He _manipulated_ you, he _beat_ you, he did God-awful _things_ to you. You’re a _victim_ , Clarke. And a victim should _never_ be blamed for what happened to them,” Bellamy whispers, and Clarke nods, hiccuping.

“I love you,” she whispers, and Bellamy murmurs that he loves her too before she’s kissing him, and it’s like fireworks behind his eyelids.

**xxx**

It takes Clarke a very long time to heal.

Bellamy is patient. He always asks her if she’s okay with whatever he does, and he’s extra careful about surprising her. He cuts out his time at the bar to be with Clarke, and even though she says she’s fine, he insists that he doesn’t have to go every night. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he whispers, and Clarke gives him a smile full of tears and hugs him again, choking out a thank-you.

Raven did end up beating up Finn, so badly that he called the cops on her. She wiggled through their fingers, however, and got off without a cinch. Bellamy finds out when he comes downstairs and sees Clarke pouring milk into her cereal and Raven nursing a mug of coffee with bruised knuckles, and she recounts the entire thing with a smile on her face.

Bellamy calls her a psycho, and she just shrugs, taking a long sip of her coffee.

And then there’s that movie night they had a few months after Clarke returns.

Miller comes over with Monty and Jasper, and Bellamy crowds them all together in the family room at his small house, planting large bowls of popcorn and beer bottles on the coffee table, and setting up a film that Jasper brought over himself: _Black and Blue_.

It would be an understatement to say that Bellamy was worried about it, from the title.

“Are you sure this is a good movie?” Bellamy hisses at Jasper, who shrugs as he shoves popcorn into his mouth and plants himself on the couch. “It’s not too bad, _Dad_ ” he says, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you probably watched it when you were high,” he mutters, and Monty lets out a snort from the kitchen.

They put the movie in, and Monty curls up in Miller’s arms as the opening credits begin to roll. Bellamy can feel Clarke curl into his side, her hair brushing against his arm as she snuggles into his shoulder, and Bellamy throws his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

That’s when the bang echoes through the house, from the TV.

Jasper yelps, and Monty throws a pillow at him. “What kind of fucking movie _is_ this?” Monty hisses, and Jasper shrugs again. Miller rolls his eyes and pulls Monty closer to him, and Bellamy becomes very aware of Clarke tensing up next to him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, placing a small kiss onto her head, but Clarke doesn’t relax, and when the image of the mother being beaten and bruised by her husband flashes on the screen, he can hear her wheezing and shuddering. “Clarke?” he whispers, worry writing itself all over his face, and Clarke jerks away from him, staggering out of the room while holding her hands over her face.

Bellamy shoots a look of poison at Jasper, and as he leaves, he can hear Miller pause the movie and a very annoyed Monty clarifying that “we should have watched How to Train Your Dragon, you _jackass_ , like I explained to you”.

Bellamy finds her sitting in the hallway, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes screwed shut. He sits next to her, pulling her into his lap as she starts to cry, pushing her face deep into his shoulder as she sobs. Bellamy rubs her shoulder, pressing kisses into her hair and trying not to cry as well.

He’s not regretting Raven going over to Finn’s house and beating him up.

He can feel Clarke quieting down, and he looks down at her face, which is looking up at him, and he feels his heart break all over again.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, brushing the remaining tears off of his face, and she smiles. “Stop apologizing, it’s fine,” she says, and he shakes his head. “No, I’m so sorry for what happened to you. If I had just been there, if I had just grown a pair and tried to follow--”

Clarke silences him with a kiss.

And another.

And another.

“Are you sure about this? They’re right downstairs,” he hisses as he feels Clarke’s fingers begin to ghost across the skin underneath his shirt, and Clarke breaks away to look him directly in the eye. “Yes, I am. It’s okay,” she whispers, and Bellamy clutches her hands as they begin to tug at the hem of his shirt.

“I’m _serious_ , Clarke. Are you going to regret this? Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks, and Clarke rolls her eyes. “Bell, we have done this before, you idiot,” she mutters, and Bellamy smiles. “So, you’re okay?” he asks, and she nods, and he kisses her again as she rubs her nails across his stomach, making him let out a low groan and a shudder that goes straight to his groin.

Pretty soon, they’re in her bed, and Bellamy has thrown his shirt off to god-knows-where and Clarke is working on the button of his jeans. Suddenly, he freezes, catching her hands as her fingers sneak underneath the waistband of his boxers.

“Clarke, are you sure?” he asks, and she looks up at him with this face that practically makes him crumble into a heap. “Bellamy, I’m _ready_. I don’t think I’d be doing this if I wasn’t. Now stop talking,” she whispers, and catches his lips in another chaste kiss.

And he lets her slide his pants and boxers off, and he tastes her and says she’s beautiful over and over and over against her until she moans into the pillows, long and loud as she quivers underneath his tongue. She has him undone on the mattress with her mouth around him and her tongue swirling around him and suddenly, as he enters her, he feels _Clarke_.

It’s something he wanted ever since that prom night four years ago.

And it’s better than before.

As Bellamy gives his last thrust, letting out a groan and flopping on top of Clarke and rolling onto his side next to her, they both catch their breath. He reaches out, taking a strand of her long, golden hair and twists it with his hand, using his other to prop his head as he stares at her with a wide smile. She returns it, and he feels amazing.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and she rolls her eyes. “Bell, you’ve told me that so many times, I know,” she says indignantly, and he shrugs. “I just want to make sure you knew,” he mumbles, and she smiles, leaving a short peck on his mouth.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, jarring Bellamy and Clarke from their intense staring game.

“I really hope you’re not fucking in there!”

“Shut up, Miller, of course they are! This is beautiful. Hashtag goals.”

“Well, how about I fulfill that goal?”

And suddenly, Clarke lets out a quiet laugh as she hears Miller slam Monty against the wall, presumably furiously making out with him, coming from the hideous noise effects provided by Jasper outside of the door.

Bellamy slips on a new pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and opens the door, winking at Clarke as he shuts it.

Miller and Monty break apart, with Monty pressed up against the wall, trapped between Miller’s arms, and Miller with swollen, red lips. Jasper wipes off his face of disgust to be replaced by an excited one. “So?” he asks, and Bellamy rolls his eyes and nods.

Jasper does a small dance on the spot, and then quiets down. “Hey, I’m…I’m sorry about, you know, he movie,” Jasper says in a small voice, looking anywhere but Bellamy. He waves it off, placing a hand on Jasper’s shoulder as the boy looks up at him.

“We all make mistakes, man. Relax,” he says, and Jasper visibly relaxes, his shoulders slouching forward. Monty grabs Jasper’s hand and smiles reassuringly at him, and Jasper’s posture straightens as he grabs Miller’s and Monty’s hands.

“We’ll, uh, leave you to it, then,” he stammers, and Miller gives him a wink before they disappear down the hallway.

Bellamy waits for the door to slam before he returns to the room.

As soon as he opens the door, he hears a short snap and Clarke looking up in surprise as he enters, shutting the door behind him. “What’s that?” he asks, taking the shirt and pulling it over his head so he’s in just his boxers, sliding underneath the sheets and pointing to the sliver of silver glinting from Clarke’s hand.

She blushes, unwrapping her fingers and revealing a large silver locket in the shape of a heart. “It’s, it’s nothing,” she stammers, and offers it to him. He takes it and turns it over in his hands, feeling the warmth from her fingers left across the metal, and opens it.

He comes face to face with _them_.

It’s the exact same picture she’d left for him almost four years ago by now, and they’re laughing so hard, and the soft light on the picture and the happiness on Clarke’s face makes Bellamy close to tears. “You carried this?” he asked, his voice shaky, and Clarke reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers together as she nods.

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t want to forget,” she explains, and Bellamy cups her face again, giving her another kiss. “I love you, so much,” he whispers, and she looks right into his eyes, smiling widely.

“So do I.”

**xxx**

And when Bellamy gets down on one knee, two months later, with a pretty princess-cut ring in a velvet black box in his hands and the words “will you marry me?” tumbling nervously off of his lips, Clarke screams and says yes, flinging her arms around his neck, making him stumble back and planting a kiss right on his lips.

And later, when their daughter is running around the house and bumps into the cabinet, a picture will float off of the top, and she’ll grab it in her small, chubby fingers and run to Bellamy and ask where it came from. And Bellamy will gaze at the happiness in the picture, at Clarke’s bright, dazed eyes, and he’ll tell her what happened.

That a picture can hold a thousand words, and sometimes, people.

And they’ll always come back to you, no matter what.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it!! I've got an epilogue of "whatever happened to..." for each character, and then this'll finally be done. :-)  
> come follow me on [tumblr!](http://lunarbellamy.tumblr.com)


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